Ripped from the waist, tossed in a corner.
clothes are useless in this game.
And we play.
It is a feast of flesh and she is famished.
She roars and rolls around the covers and in between their legs.
It is a play and we are star performers at what we do best
We love and we feel and we breathe as one tonight.
but this full feeling will not last long
We will crave more.
We will crave less.
This game, undressed.
The culture of womynhood is exhausting.
The first man kisses my cheek and works down to my lips in a collected and slow motion. He is soft, his intentions clearly thought out. I turn around and face the second man. The second man pulls me with the firm grip of his hands around my neck, insistent and aggressive. The first man still caresses my neck with his lips while I share breath with the second.
A ying and yang of sexual partners, one on each of my sides.
The two men share and begin to slip off clothing. I allow them to do the same to me. More than sex, deep passion and pain rolls from tongue to tongue, sharing their silent scream. Our bodies switch, ever shifting, quickly panting, position to position calling out pleasure. Four hands glide through sweat across my breasts and down my pelvis. The first man kisses. I want more. The second one holds a hand across my throat, a pleasurable pain. I do not resist. This wave of bodies opens my soul, releases the wolves and reminds me how hungry I’ve been.
Man: a healthy meal.
I am full
Some days it is so hard to forgive you. I have a deep, burning hate. A hate so firey I must hold my chest from bursting, bite my tongue from stinging, sit on my hands to prevent writing words that I demand you hear. So I spin in place to concentrate on my feet.
They spin. The wheels in my head that Love runs on spin backwards. Towards you. For it is not fear from experience, but insufficient trust that enlightens my skepticism.
You spin like a DJ. Your promises on repeat. Your kinship on the playlist. Upcoming: heartbreak. Unhappiness sounds like a rock song and a lullaby, and the sound of your breath when you speak.
So I spin for forgiveness. A destination in absolutely nothingness. A clear head and a full heart. A white noise in empty air. Heart heated, but not overwhelmed. Tongue crisp but not sharp. Hands float free in lightness. And my body unmistakably quirky in freedom of the spin.
Capital Hill signed with thrill
Generations watch as his Handcock
Slithers across the pages
There are winks and eyebrows of approval,
A forced laugh from the Speaker,
Golf claps all around and
And his grandson screams, “I want to go home,”
Trust me kid, you and I both.
Racing in my car.
Tabernacle on the radio.
Judge Roberts called.
I skip the yellow light, weave through the cars.
A Bible brought
It must be stopped!
I push the gas, rain starts to fall.
In hopes that I can stop the oath
That has shocked us all.
Blue feelings in my chest.
Pulled on a string to walk forward.
My stomach is tight
Trying to find words that my heart will accept.
I have to purge,
I’m so upset.